Will You Be My Friend?
by TDsMom
Summary: Jane wants to give Maura a Christmas present that expresses how much she means to her.


**This is my first attempt at posting anything on this site. The poem by James Kavanaugh has always reminded me of Jane and Maura's relationship so I thought I'd share it with you all. **

**It is not my intention to claim any ownership or authorship of the poem or the characters of Rizzoli and Isles. **

* * *

Jane knew she could never afford the luxurious tastes that Maura was used to but she was determined to make their first Christmas together special. She was going to put aside the reputation as a bad ass she had worked so hard to achieve, and show Maura a part of her few others knew existed.

Jane spent a great deal of her life trying to gain the respect of her peers. She wanted to be seen as as good as any man but too often this desire came in conflict with the softer, more artistic nature in Jane. Playing the piano and writing poetry weren't going to earn her any points with her coworkers in the male dominated police force.

But with Maura, Jane didn't have to pretend. She wasn't going to lose Maura's respect if she showed her a softer side. So often Jane used sarcasm as a shield. Words worked as weapons against a too often bitter and cruel world. Jane's worldview never seemed as harsh when facing the day with Maura by her side though.

So instead of buying a gift for the girl who could afford it all, Jane decided to make Maura's gift from the heart. The card was simple, purchased at a drug store for $2, but Jane hoped that what was inside would make up for it.

The photo tucked inside was taken by Frankie without either women noticing; too caught up in the bundle of fur sitting on Jane's lap who was reaching up to lick Maura's face. Jo Friday, Jane and Maura had been at the park sitting under a flowering tree lost in their own little world. The effortless joy and understanding present between the two women was certainly unique for the usually standoffish women. It wasn't a particularly memorable moment, but Frankie was able to capture the very essence of their relationship in that one picture.

The main gift consisted of a folded slip of paper on which Jane wrote the first poem she even considered showing anyone else since she was in a 7th grade creative writing class. The words came quickly to Jane who had already spent many restless nights trying to understand how Maura Isles came into her life and changed the very way Jane viewed the world. It was a declaration and a question wrapped into one. It was the story of Jane's life and how Maura fit so perfectly into it.

_Who am I? I am not sure._  
_Once I was a rabbit's grave and a basketball hoop on_  
_the garage, a cucumber patch, lilac trees and peonies crawling_  
_with ants. I was stepping stones and a mysterious cistern,_  
_grass fires, water fights and ping pong in the basement._  
_I was a picket fence, a bed and maple chest of drawers_  
_I shared with brothers, a dog named Sandy who danced._  
_Friends were easy to find. We climbed trees, built grass huts,_  
_chased snakes–and we dreamed a lot._

_WILL YOU BE MY FRIEND? Beyond childhood._

_Who am I? I am not sure._  
_Once I was predictable. I was educated, trained, loved–not_  
_as I was, but as I seemed to be. My role was my safe_  
_way of hiding. There was no reason to change. I was approved._  
_I pleased. Then, almost suddenly, I changed. Now I am less_  
_sure, more myself. My role has almost disappeared._  
_My roots are not in my church, my job, my city;_  
_even my world. They are in me. Friends are not so easy to find–_  
_and I dream a lot._

_WILL YOU BE MY FRIEND? Beyond Roles._

_Who am I? I am not sure._  
_I am more alone than before. Part animal, but not protected_  
_by his instincts or restricted by his vision. I am_  
_part spirit as well, yet scarcely free, limited by taste and_  
_touch and time–yearning for all of life. There is no security._  
_Security is sameness and fear, the postponing of life. Security_  
_is expectations and commitments and premature death. I live_  
_with uncertainty. There are mountains yet to climb, clouds_  
_to ride, stars to explore and friends to find. I am all alone._  
_There is only me–and I dream a lot._

_WILL YOU BE MY FRIEND? Beyond security._

_Who am I? I am not sure._  
_I do not search in emptiness and need, but in increasing_  
_fullness and desire. Emptiness seeks any voice to fill a void,_  
_any face to dispel darkness. Emptiness brings crowds and shadows_  
_easy to replace. Fullness brings a friend, unique, irreplaceable._  
_I am not as empty as I was. There are the wind and the_  
_ocean, books and music, strength and joys within, and the_  
_night. Friendship is less a request than a celebration, less_  
_a ritual than a reality, less a need than a want._  
_Friendship is you and me–and I dream a lot._

_WILL YOU BE MY FRIEND? Beyond need._

_Who am I? I am not sure._  
_Who are you? I want to know. We didn't sell Kool-aid together or hitchhike to school. We're_  
_not from the same town, the same God, hardly the same_  
_world. There is no role to play, no security to provide, no_  
_commitment to make. I expect no answer save your presence,_  
_your eyes, your self. Friendship is freedom, is flowing, is_  
_rare. It does not need stimulation, it stimulates itself. It trusts,_  
_understands, grows, explores, it smiles and weeps. It does not_  
_exhaust or cling, expect or demand. It is–and that is enough–_  
_and it dreams a lot._  
_WILL YOU BE MY FRIEND?_


End file.
